There Goes Our Heterosexuality!
by The Necessity of Darkness
Summary: A collection of drabbles and one-shots based off of scenes from Sherlock. Altered to "confirm" Johnlock. Prompts accepted.
1. A Different Sort of Product

"Just because he puts a bit of product in his hair? _I_ put product in my hair!" John shouted incredulously after Jim(from IT) exited the room.

"Oh, don't be _coy_ , John! We use different products than just hair-oriented ones, particularly when we're in the bedroom, and that alone is proof enough that your aren't straight...," Sherlock trailed off with a shit-eating grin. Molly stood limply beside Sherlock, opposite of John, with a pale face and wide eyes. John stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned away, a blush crawling up his neck and staining his cheeks, but also a scowl on his face. Then, that scowl was turned on the detective.

"Oh, come _on_ , John: saying any differently than that would be a lie," Sherlock muttered, some of the felicity draining from his smile at the look John was giving him. "And we wouldn't want to lie to Molly here, now would we?"

As Sherlock turned his head to the pathologist behind him, she merely squeaked, a bit like a mouse, as she stuttered,"No...no-I want to know the tr-truth..." But when he turned to the soldier, all he got as a response was a murderous glare that said, _say anything more and you die_.

"Well, um-I better be g-going: there's a new-body coming in...today," Molly explained smally as she speed-walked to the door.

" _Sherlock_!"

"Oh, come now, John," the detective started, turning his gaze from the door Molly just exited to the doctor. "It was just a bit of fun. Isn't that what people do?"

At John's disapproving look, Sherlock's hesitant smile fell from his face. "Not good?" he quired, frowning slightly.

"A bit not good, yeah."

Sherlock looked back down to his microscope slide with a soft whisper of, _oh,_ as he fiddled with the instrument's knob. Almost immediately, he looked back up to John and asked,"So...no sex tonight?"

The soldier pulled out a chair beside the detective and leaned forward so he was right in front of Sherlock, his breath ghosting over his face. He sighed a thoughtful, _hmmm_ , before smiling widely and responding,"That would be a bit of a harsh punishment, wouldn't it?"

Sherlock grinned back, swiftly ducking his head to peck John's lips. "Indeed it would be..."

"But seriously, you _do_ need to apologize to Molly..."


	2. Yes, Divorce is Good

"So, you got a boyfriend?" John asked softly, glancing down at his linked hands before looking back up at Sherlock.

The detective merely tilted his head inquisitively, stating," _No_ ," rather curtly. His fingers drummed on the mahogany table, his icy gaze piercing the doctor's soft, amber-blue eyes.

"Right," the soldier started. "You're unattached: like me. Fine," he babbled, finishing with,"good." John brought his hands up to his face, scratching his chin and then fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Sherlock's eyes softened then, his fingers stopping their rythmic dancing against the table top. As the boffin's eyes darted away to gaze out the window, looking at the taxi outside, he mumbled,"Well, erm, John...I _am_ flattered, really, but I consider myself married to my work-"

"Before you imply it, I'm just going to say now: no...I'm not asking, no. I'm just saying, it's all fine." But then, the doctor was perplexed at the detective's solemn expression. He seemed deflated(?) at the admittance. "What?" John couldn't help but asking as he felt a sort of guilt at Sherlock's expression.

"Oh, well, you didn't let me finish...but whatever I was going to say has been rendered moot by your interruption, so-"

"Why? What were you going to say?" the soldier questioned, leaning in subconsciously.

"I'd rather not say: I was surprised when you didn't tell me to piss off before, but you'll definitely tell me to now if I tell you what I was thinking of saying...," Sherlock trailed off, fingers frantically tapping, once again, as his foot joined in with the dancing.

"Oh, come on, Sherlock... _please_?" the doctor sighed as he gave the boffin a desperate, pleading look. Sherlock looked at him a moment, a wall blocking John from seeing the internal debate he was having about telling what he'd been about to say.

Sherlock heaved a heavy sigh as he dejectedly confessed,"I was going to say, but if you _were_ asking, I could be willingly persuaded into filing a divorce..."

At the prolonged silence, Sherlock took it that John was going to leave, and he was deeply saddened at the thought: he'd never before clicked with an individual so well.

Then, he heard a throaty chuckle, which softened into a laugh that descended into a fit of giggles.

"Uhh, ah: file a divorce...," John snickered, gripping his knees tightly. "That's a good one..." The doctor's eyes stung vaguely with tears as he wiped them away with a balled fist.

Sherlock wasn't sure how to respond to the laughter. "Surely you know what that phrase entails? Or maybe you really are more daft than I gave you credit for..."

"Oh, no, I know what it means," John drawled, heaving a contented sigh as he met Sherlock's eyes. "So...that divorce sounds good, don't you think?" he asked with a grin as he sipped his coffee.

Sherlock's smile just widened as he kept looking at the taxi outside.


	3. Happy Announcements

"Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?" Sherlock's "arch-enemy" quired, cocking his head slightly to the side as he leaned on his umbrella.

"And if you _were_ to receive a happy announcement, would we receive one from the both of you?" John retorted, gesturing between Mycroft and his umbrella. The Holmes brother frowned for a moment, seemingly unhappy at the doctor's response.

"Oh, you're just _hilarious_ , Dr. Watson! No wonder my baby brother likes you so!" Mycroft retorted, swinging his umbrella in the air.

"Wait-you're Sherlock's brother?" John clarified, his fingers scratching his chin. "Oh, so this is just how you show your concern: _that's_ why you're asking about our relationship."

"Hmmm, yes, but you never denied my inquiry, which leads me to believe you may form a more than platonic relationship with my brother dear. Well, actually, I already considered that you may offer a romantic relationship to Sherlock, but you just confirmed that it _is_ a _definite_ possibility," the man responded, now smoothing his palm over the umbrella's handle.

"Maybe, but _you_ didn't deny to forming a "more than platonic relationship" with your umbrella. It seems to me that you're quite fond of it," the soldier replied evenly, leaning heavily on his cane.

"Hmm, can't _wait_ to get to know you, John. You seem like _such_ a likeable person," Mycroft sighed with a creased brow.

"Oh, I usually _am_ likeable, just not to people who don't like me, and I find it very clear that you don't particularly like me. _Sorry_ , I didn't catch your name?"

"Arrgh, why must my brother burden me with such a nuisance of a creature? You two will make quite the couple, I'm sure..."

"By the way, though: _I'm not actually gay_."


	4. Not Really A Sleeper, Either

"Is yours a snorer?" the bartender questioned, glancing to Sherlock, who was standing idly in the background. John glanced from the speaking inkeeper to his alleged partner, then turned back to stare at the detective.

Contemplating for a moment, his eyes flitted back to the moustached inkeeper, fingers tapping softly against the countertop.

"Ah, well, he's actually not that much of a sleeper," the doctor responded after a moment, scouring the racks of alcohol hung on the pub's wall.

The two men behind the counter looked puzzled for a minute before devious, knowing smirks bloomed on their faces. It was John's turn to appear perplexed as his gaze shifted between the two of them, and he quickly caught on.

"No, no: not like _that_! Nothing like _that_!" the soldier exclaimed, a bright crimson marring his cheeks as he canted his head to look at the boffin, who was now looking directly at him. Sherlock merely shrugged and smirked as he sauntered to the counter.

"Oh, it's alright, boys," the more rubicund of the two men announced, a small smile adorning his face as Sherlock wrapped an arm around John's shoulders. "We know how it is..."

"No-uh, what I meant is, err-we do, you know, but he just doesn't sleep, er, uh-often, I swear-"

"What my friend here means to say is that we do engage in the act of coitus, but that is not the reason I sleep so little," Sherlock's bored, dry voice cut through the air, almost painfully blunt.

The inkeepers remained silent for multiple seconds as John flushed even more, and before the bartenders could respond in any way, John pulled away from the detective's grasp.

"...Got any crisps...?"


End file.
